


just a boy you used to love

by Areiton



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Character, Happy Ending, M/M, MIT Era, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, de-aged character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He’s grinning and thinner than Tony remembers, but the lines around his eyes are gone, too, and there’s nothing but rolling confidence as he struts up to Tony, all of nineteen and so damn cocky it’s fucking breathtaking, and he leans into Tony’s space, and smirks.“Hey there, Tones. These guys say you’re mine.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 300
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	just a boy you used to love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salable_mystic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/gifts).



> I wrote this for Salable_mystic for MTH 2019 and it's SO LATE, I'M SORRY!!! But I hope it's worth it.

He’s in the workshop when he gets the call. He doesn’t go out with the team anymore, not since the last battle with Thanos that took his arm, and almost killed him. 

It would have--would have killed him and Steve both, if Extremis hadn’t done it’s magic, stabilized the failing serum in Steve’s veins and kept Tony alive on the battlefield long enough for Cho to do her part, to put them back together. 

Still. He didn’t fight anymore, content to let younger and healthier heroes take over, happy to let Rhodey shine in his own right. 

Steve doesn’t fight much, anymore either, but they usually sit in the workshop together, Steve frowning at a sketch and Tony buried in a new design while the family they loved fought for the world. 

So it’s not surprising that they both jerk to attention when FRIDAY says, “Boss.” 

“Put 'em through,” Tony says, dropping his hands and Peter’s new web shooters, and Sam fills up the holoscreen. Some--not all, but some--of the tension eases out of Steve. 

“Now--before you panic--he’s ok,” Sam says, and all that tension is back, and Steve’s lurching forward, even though time has shown nothing ever  _ really _ hurts Bucky for long but--

Sam’s gaze is fixed on Tony, worry bright in his eyes, and an unhappy set to his mouth and Tony’s heart  _ drops.  _

“FRIDAY, gimme vitals,” he says, hoarsely. 

Peter is gonna be fine. He’s got super healing, and he always bounces back, but--

“Peter suffered one minor head wound, but all vitals are reading normal. Mr. Boss is not in his suit.” 

His stomach drops, because  _ Rhodey _

“Tony,” Sam snaps, sharp and demanding, and Steve’s at his back, steady, when he drags his gaze up. “He’s  _ fine, _ Tony. He’s fine.” 

“I want to see him,” he says, lips numb, and Sam’s gaze cuts away, to something the holo doesn’t show. 

“We’ll be landing in three. Just--brace yourself, ok?” 

His gaze flicks to Steve, and he adds, “Maybe call Strange, will you?” 

Tony’s legs feel wobbly, unsteady and he leans against the workbench. 

“He’s--”

“Fine,” Steve says, that deep voice in a body that still, two years after Thanos, after giving up the serum in exchange for Natasha, startles Tony sometimes. “Sam wouldn’t lie about that.” 

“You don’t  _ know.”  _

“I know my boyfriend,” Steve says mildly. “And he’d never let anything happen to Rhodey.” 

He takes a step away and Tony doesn’t move, just leans into the bench and tries to breath through the burning in his eyes and cold terror in his belly. 

“You gonna leave him waiting?” 

He could. Rhodey has always been so damn good at waiting for him. It’s one of the million reasons he loves Rhodey--because Rhodey has the patience of a saint and has always been willing to wait for Tony to catch up to him, has been willing to drag him along when necessary, but more often than not, content to move at Tony’s sometimes glacial pace. 

He left him waiting for so fucking long. 

It’s that long familiar guilt that moves his feet, until he’s matching Steve, and they’re just reaching the hanger when the quinnjet lands. 

Peter bounds off the jet first, and his eyes are wide and a little bit worried. Still--he’s in one piece, and that eases something tight and worried that has always belonged completely to this boy who isn’t his but  _ is _ in every way that matters. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, and then--

“Don’t call him that,” a familiar voice says from his dreams. “He  _ hates _ being called that.” 

Tony trembles, and he thinks he’d fall, if Steve didn’t scramble to catch him, swaying under his weight, because there, between Sam and Bucky, is Rhodey. 

Smiling and whole, and just as beautiful as he ever was. 

He’s grinning and thinner than Tony remembers, but the lines around his eyes are gone, too, and there’s nothing but rolling confidence as he struts up to Tony, all of nineteen and so damn cocky it’s fucking  _ breathtaking _ , and he leans into Tony’s space, and smirks. 

“Hey there, Tones. These guys say you’re mine.” 

~*~ 

“Explain this to me again,” Tony says, and he keeps his gaze on Sam and not the man pressed into his side because he’s going to go to pieces if he focuses too much on Rhodey right now. 

Sam is safe. He’s not smirking the way that Bucky is, or looking at him with wide-eyed terror like Peter, or even worse-- _ pity _ from Steve. 

He doesn’t need  _ pity _ . He doesn’t need anything but to know exactly what the hell happened and how he can fix it. 

“I told you,” Bucky starts, and Sam kicks him. 

“We were called out to deal with Enchantress. Nothing we hadn’t done before. She has her panties in a twist because Loki is pregnant again, and when she threw a spell at them, Loki deflected it.” 

“Fucking--” 

“Loki’s pregnant, man, you know her control gets shot to hell when she’s carrying,” Sam says, patiently and Tony huffs, grumbling as Sam continues. “So the spell hit Rhodey who promptly fell outta the fucking sky. Bucky got his faceplate off and,” Sam shrugs, waving a hand at Rhodey. 

Who grins up at Tony, young and familiar and beautiful and strange, all at once. 

“Do we--how long?” he asks, and Sam’s gaze goes sympathetic. He’s a good man, too good to ever dip into pity, but there’s familiar commiseration there, and Tony remembers the three days last year when he and Bucky swapped bodies. 

Their lives were so fucking  _ weird.  _

“I’ve got a call to Strange,” Steve offers. “And Thor already called to say he’s bringing Loki over as soon as she quits crying.” 

Tony nods his thanks, and Rhodey twitches at his side. “Your shop’s really nice, Tones,” he says, peering around and he flicks a glance down. 

“Memories?” 

“Uh. Seems like he’s got what he had when he was nineteen,” Sam says, a little self-conscious.

Rhodey bristles, all offended dignity. “ _ He _ is standing right here, asshole.”

Tony catches Rhodey’s hand, tugs a little to pull him back as Rhodey kinda puffs up and struts forward, and he deflates easy, sinks into Tony’s space with a low huff. 

Nineteen. That’d been the first summer they spent together, a sex-filled haze of hunger and laughter, before Rhodey shipped out for the sandbox for six weeks, coming back to him thin and gorgeous and different. 

He pushes that aside. 

“Ok, Peter, you wanna take him up and get some food ordered? I’m gonna finish--”

“I’ll wait,” Rhodey says, and pushes himself up onto a counter, legs swinging just a bit as he plays with a stylus. 

Tony blinks at him and Rhodey smiles back, shark sharp and defiant. 

“Fine,” he says, through numb lips. “That’s--that’s great.” 

~*~ 

This is what he doesn’t remember about being young, about Rhodey loving him when they were children, before--

Before. Before Tony shattered them apart and they spent years avoiding each other and fucking anger into each other’s skin when they were very drunk and crashing into each other in foreign cities. 

What he doesn’t remember is--

Rhodey is quiet and patient. Even at nineteen, beautiful and brash and vibrantly alive, Rhodey was always patient when it mattered, and Tony  _ mattered _ , more than anything in his life, even more than the Air Force. 

So Rhodey sits in the lab, and he  _ watches _ and he doesn't say anything, even when Tony relaxes and starts talking to FRIDAY, when the team wanders in and out with gear to work on, when Peter slides into the lab, all energy and a plate of food that he shoves at Tony and calls him  _ Mr Stark.  _

He frowns at that, but he doesn’t say anything, just-- _ watches.  _

This is what he doesn’t remember about being young, about Rhodey loving him when they were children--

Rhodey is  _ brilliant _ . 

No one ever expects that. 

He stands next to Tony Stark, and he flies fighter jets and no one ever thinks that maybe he helped design JARVIS, that the only person who can match Tony’s brilliant mind is Rhodey. 

He never pushes that, never forces his brilliance. Where Tony wields it like a weapon, Rhodey has been content to be underestimated and work where no one can see. 

It’s easy for Tony to forget. 

And it’s startling, when Rhodey says, hours later, his voice scratchy from disuse, “You were out there, too, weren’t you?” 

Tony blinks a few times, the schematic for Redwing being slowly replaced by Rhodey sitting on his worktable, nibbling on a slice of apple and watching Tony. 

“But you quit,” he says, not waiting for Tony to catch up. “How bad was it, that you quit?” 

Tony stares at him, and there’s a echo of Sam’s warning-- _ you can’t tell him too much-- _ and there is Rhodey’s young, patient eyes, and there is this--

After the pallidum, he promised to never lie to Rhodey again. 

“Pretty bad,” he murmurs, and bares his arm, red and gold and beautiful, for Rhodey’s curious, questioning gaze. 

“Tell me,” Rhodey says, a quiet request and Tony’s shoulders slump. 

And he does. 

~*~ 

Rhodey listens, patient and quiet, and he doesn't argue or interrupt, not even when Tony tells him about Siberia, about the fight in Germany that took his legs. He just listens with that quiet look of concentration on his face, and Tony waits, anxious and afraid. 

Rhodey didn't bolt, when he lost his legs chasing Tony into a fight with fucking Captain America--but that was a Rhodey who had loved him and chosen him, over and over for thirty years. This--this is a Rhodey Before, when they were friends, and he was intense, but he was also just a kid. 

God, they'd been so fucking  _ young _ . 

Rhodey stands, after Tony's finished telling him everything, comes close and kisses him, a quick gentle kiss that Tony wants to lean into and feels guilty about, and then he says, "I need a minute." 

Tony nods, helpless to do anything but agree, and watches, heart caught in his throat, while Rhodey walks away. 

~*~ 

He only panics a little. 

Because there's fear, real and deep, that Rhodey won't come back, and there's knowledge, hard fought and years old, that says he needs this. That when life happens, too fast for him to catch all at once, Rhodey retreats, coils in on himself to process. 

He comes back. 

He always comes back to Tony. Even at the worst of things, when they couldn't speak without screaming, wehn all they did was cut each other up with words and fuck out the fury--even then, Rhodey always came back. 

He waits, anxious and afraid and patient, and hours later, when the sun is dripping orange across the horizon and twilight paints the sky a deepening dark, Rhodey comes back to him, slips into the workshop and tugs Tony close. 

They curl together, Tony in Rhodey's lap, and Rhodey's fingers brushing revenant over the metal of his arm, tracing it with delicate fingers that aren't as thick and scarred as Tony remembers. 

"You made it," Rhodey says, more statement than question and Tony nods, presses himself closer as Rhodey hums soft under his breath, curls him closer into his chest. "God you're just as smart as I knew you would be, aren't you, peacock." 

"I'm not," he says, because he doesn't always feel smart. He can't fix  _ this _ , and what fucking good is he if he can't even fix his husband. 

"You are," Rhodey says, quiet and implacable, that steady solid that Tony loves. They curl like that, and it's familiar and not--Tony hasn't spent much time cuddling in Rhodey's lap since the accident. But there were so many years, when this was his favorite place to rest, the best place to sleep, and it feels like home, curled here again. 

"I'm glad we're together," Rhodey murmurs. "That we stayed together." 

Tony hums a little and doesn't say anything about the years when they didn't speak, just screamed and cursed and occasionally fucked. 

They still don't talk about that. He sure as hell doesn't want to tell Rhodey about it. 

"You should get some sleep, peacock," Rhodey murmurs, and Tony stiffens. 

"Shit. I should--you have a room," he says, and Rhodey shifts, arches an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

It's not nearly as intimidating coming from a nineteen year old than it was coming from a full bird Colonel. 

"I figured I slept in your bed, genius." 

Tony blushes, something he hasn't done in fucking  _ years _ . 

"I think maybe that's a bad idea," he says, softly, and a smirk, dirty and promising, curls at the edges of Rhodey's lips, like he can hear everything Tony isn't saying. 

He probably can, the bastard. 

"OK, genius," he agrees, too easily, and Tony frowns, a little. 

There's got to be a catch. When Rhodey gives in that easy, there's  _ always _ a catch. 

"But if I'm gonna go to bed all alone, I want a kiss to keep me warm," Rhodey almost purrs. 

There it is. 

"Sourpatch," he says, helpless, and Rhodey's fingers are in his hair, tight and drawing him close, a hair's breadth away when he stops, letting Tony decide. 

Rhodey has always let Tony decide, has always waited that last step for Tony to take it. 

Tony kisses him. 

It's sharp and hungry, a rush of lips and teeth and Rhodey nipping at his lip and sucking on his tongue, his big hands settling on Tony's waist, dragging him close to rut against Rhodey's hard cock and Tony moans into the kiss, Rhodey makes a noise, a muffled snarl, and his hands flex, just a little, too tight for a heartbeat and Tony pulls away slowly, Rhodey chasing and kissing until Tony splays a hand across his chest, holding him back.

Lips slick and red and eyes half-lidded, Rhodey is just as beautiful as he was in Tony's memories. 

"We shouldn't," he murmurs. "Not tonight." 

Rhodey's head tips to one side, studying him, and then he smiles, bright and happy and smug. "Alright, Tones. Show me to my room." 

~*~ 

He doesn’t sleep well. There's an empty space in his bed where Rhodey should be, where he's been since before the Snap that stole half the universe, and all through the long years when he grieved and Rhodey fought, and Morgan brightened their lives, a sunspot in all of the grief and trauma. 

Now though--

Now his bed is empty and it doesn't lend to a restful night, and he's a little bleary-eyed and tired when he stumbles into the kitchen. 

Rhodey is there, and he's reminded again, just how nice his boyfriend's ass was, before he realizes what's happening. 

Rhodey has Steve shoved against the fridge, small and almost defenseless, except Steve Rogers has never been defenseless. There's sharp fury in Rhodey’s eyes. "You  _ fucker _ ," Rhodey snarls. 

"Son, you don't know--" 

Rhodey punches him.

Steve's head snaps back, and Sam snarls, launching from where he's been sitting, and only Bucky using his body to shove him back, holds him back.

"What the  _ fuck _ ," Tony blurts out, because he's not real sure which point to address and it seems like it'll cover everything. 

Rhodey doesn't even look ashamed, is the thing, just shoves Steve a little as he let's go and turns a dazzling smile on Tony. "Coffee?" 

There's a split second of silence, and then Sam curses again, Bucky making a wordless noise as he shoves back against his boyfriend, and Steve--Steve just stands there, blood dripping down his face, a pained smile there, while Rhodey stares back defiantly. 

"He hurt you," he says, evenly. 

"Years ago!" Tony says, flailing. "We've--god, Rhodey, we worked that shit out!" 

"Did I ever punch him?" he asks, reaching for a mug and pouring his coffee. 

Tony blinks, open mouthed and wrong footed and Rhodey gives him a smile that's edged with steel and so hot he can't actually breath for a second. "Then that is years overdue, peacock." 

He presses the coffee into Tony's hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'm gonna get a shower." 

Rhodey walks away and the four of them stand there, blood still dripping from Steve's nose and Tony whispers, faintly, "What the  _ fuck _ ." 

Bucky starts, finally, laughing. 

~*~ 

Rhodey finds him in the workshop later, puts a smoothie near his elbow, drops a kiss against his temple and then goes to greet the bots. 

DUM-E is the only one who doesn't hesitate, just zips right up to Rhodey, beeping frantically and Rhodey laughs, this low rough chuckle that is  _ doing _ things to Tony. "Hey, baby. Glad to see you're still here. You wanna introduce me to your brothers?" 

"U," Tony says, and the bot beeps, claw clicking at Rhodey curiously. "We made him when you graduated. And Butterfingers came along when you were on your second deployment." 

"Gotta have a deployment baby, huh, kids?" he says, softly, and Tony blinks back a sudden rush of tears. 

That's what RHodey called her then, too. He always had a soft spot for Butterfingers. "You said you had to spoil her, because she's the only girl and because you weren't there for her coding--she might forget you." 

Rhodey studies him and then, with a surety that leaves him breathless, "Nah. You'd never let my girl forget me, would you, Tones." 

He shakes his head and blinks away tears, turning back to his code while Rhodey plays with the kids. 

He hasn't asked about JARVIS yet, even if he has heard FRIDAY'S voice and Tony doesn't know how to tell him. 

Rhodey was there, when JARVIS died, he  _ stayed _ , when no one else did, while Tony grieved. 

He thinks maybe that grief, that lonely emptiness and relentless loss is why Rhodey was so quick to love Peter. 

~*~

Rhodey stays close. He's not quite underfoot, but he's  _ close _ , present and unable to be completely ignored, even when he finds a project that he'd been working on before the mission, when he gets engrossed in a puzzle that might not be  _ his _ , but it's still intriguing and the way his mind works--it's fascinating, watching him play at it, watching him make a breakthrough that Tony's Rhodey hadn't. 

He's in the lab, when Peter bounds into the room, already chattering, and the bots who'd been hanging near him, curious and wary, abandon him in his corner to cluster around Peter, beeping and excitedly clacking. 

"Hey, you guys," Peter says, and Tony twists to look at the kid, the way he's petting the bots and chattering at them. "Butterfingers, you got a pretty bow, sweetie, looking very stylish. Morgan give you that?" 

He flicks a smile at Tony, belated, but it's never bothered Tony that Peter greets the bots first. "Hey, Mr. Stark," he says. "Did you finish them?" he nods at the web shooters and Tony scoops them up and tosses them to the kid. 

He grins, and turns away, nimble fingers fiddling before he even reaches his worktable. 

Rhodey is watching, his jaw set and his eyes stormy and Tony arches an eyebrow. "You alright there, platypus?" 

"Why is he here?" 

Peter can hear them--Tony knows he can, but the question startles Tony enough that he doesn't look at the kid, doesn't check on him, just focuses on Rhodey. 

Rhodey, who is  _ glaring _ . 

"Pete always works in the 'shop when he's at the tower," Tony says, slowly. 

"You hate people working in your space," Rhodey snaps. It hits him suddenly, the fury, the protective set to Rhodey's shoulders. 

Sunset had to have been pretty recent, for him. 

"That---honey, that was a long time ago. Peter isn't gonna steal from me." 

"Quick enough to take your tech, though, isn't he? That's your work in that suit he was wearing." He scowls, and then, "He calls you Mr. Stark." 

Tony glances at Peter, standing too still and tense at his table. 

Then, firmly, "Rhodey, I trust Peter. He's family." 

Rhodey flinches, and his eyes are wide and hurt when he looks back from Peter back to Tony. "He--he calls you Mr. Stark." 

"And he calls you Mr. Colonel Rhodey, what do you want from me, he's a polite kid!" 

"I can go," Peter says, softly, his voice shifting through the workshop. 

"No," Tony says, and it's careful but firm. "No, if Rhodey isn't comfortable with you being here, he can come back after we finish with your webshooters." 

Rhodey pales, his mouth dropping open, and Peter makes a shocked noise but Tony doesn't reel the words back in. 

He turns to Peter. "OK, kiddie, tell me what you think." 

He doesn't turn around, doesn't even react, when the door glides open behind him and Rhodey's footsteps recede. He doesn't look at Peter either, keeps his gaze on the damn webshooters so he doesn't have to see the worry or the pity in his kid's eyes, or the hurt either. 

"The trigger is a little tight, I think," he says and Peter hesitates a moment and then he nods, and they get to work. 

It's later, when they're tired, and the webshooters are working perfect and Peter's stomach rumbles, that he wraps an arm around Peter's neck and leads him upstairs. 

"He's gonna remember everything, Pete. Just--cut him some slack until then, ok?" 

"Yeah," Peter murmurs. "You too, Mr. Stark." 

Tony smiles, and drops a kiss on his fluffy hair before he shoves him into the kitchen. Bucky is cooking and Tony waves at the kid. "Feed him will you, barnes?" 

Bucky nods at the bedroom. "Your boy went there." 

Tony smiles, tightly, and goes to find Rhodey. 

~*~ 

Rhodey is sitting cross-legged on the floor, peering out the window, and it occurs to Tony that this is different. 

Not the obscene wealth--Rhodey got used to that a few months into rooming with Tony, even if he’s never been particularly impressed by it or drawn to it. No, that is normal--but the last time Tony took  _ this _ Rhodey home, it was to the Mansion, pretentious and oversized, but still a home nestled among the streets of Manhattan. 

This--

Soaring above the clouds, the city sprawled below them, all the glitter hiding the rust and sharp edges. 

Rhodey, he thinks suddenly, is still young enough that he doesn’t know how much the world will hurt him. 

How much it’ll hurt  _ them,  _ how much it’ll demand before they’re allowed a taste of happiness. 

Tony swallows hard, and comes to sit behind him, leaning his weight against Rhodey’s broad back. He smells like sweat and coconut oil, like sandalwood and motor oil, and there’s ozone and wild wind missing that makes something pang in his belly, lost and lonely, even here with him. 

“Everything’s different,” Rhodey murmurs. “You let--there’s all these people here, and you trust ‘em even though they hurt you and you never let anyone get close enough to do that more than once.”

“Honey,” Tony murmurs. 

“That kid calls you Mr. Stark. You  _ hate  _ when people call you that, it reminds you too much of Howard, but he does and he takes your tech like he’s got some kind of fucking  _ right  _ to it and I don’t under _ stand _ . It’s not  _ you.”  _

“He  _ does _ have a right to it,” Tony says, gently. “Pete designed the webshooters, created the formula. I help because I’m a nosy busybody and I worry--but  _ I  _ help  _ him. _ ” 

Rhodey stares at him, something startled and uncomprehending in his eyes, and Tony sighs. “Sweetheart, the world isn’t like it was when we were nineteen. There’s no black and white with Cap and the team. There’s a whole host of shades of grey, but the truth is--we needed each other. We lost, a few years ago--” 

“The snap. He told me.” 

“We retired,” Tony says, softly. “Me and you. You still did Air Force shit, but we were out.” 

“Then why are we  _ here?” _

Tony closes his eyes. “FRIDAY--the wake album, please.” 

She doesn’t respond, but there’s a tension in Rhodey that makes Tony ache, and he soothes a hand down his husband--boyfriend-- _ his Rhodey’s _ back, as the pictures swirl to life around them. 

It’s two years worth of pictures, of videos and audio clips, of  _ Peter,  _ alive and happy and theirs. 

“He died,” Tony says, and he doesn’t choke on the words anymore, even if there is a visceral lurch in his gut that says how wrong that statement is. “He died and we could let him go--or we could jump on a last ditch chance.” 

Rhodey blinks at him, and Tony smiles, thin and ghastly. “We couldn’t save JARVIS when he died, platypus. I couldn’t let Pete die, not if there was anything I could do to undo it.” 

Rhodey’s fingers trace over the metal wrist. “Was it worth this?” 

He laughs, and it’s surprisingly light, an easy noise in the tension between them. “It would have been worth it, if it killed me.” 

~*~ 

It doesn’t surprise him, when Rhodey slips into his room, long after the Tower has gone still and quiet, the Cap trio headed to the brownstone in Brooklyn that they insisted on living in, Peter retreating to Queens and his aunt’s apartment. There’s really nothing to stop this, not beyond his own guilt. 

Rhodey slips into his bed, wearing the tight black boxer briefs that he’s worn since Tony met him, although somewhere along the line he traded coarse cotton Hanes for silky black that slips against his skin like water when Rhodey presses against him. 

“Your bed not comfortable, sweetheart?” he asks, mild, and Rhodey huffs a laugh. Presses a kiss to the curve of Tony’s shoulder and it drags a shudder out of him, because Rhodey--

He’s whole, no braces, no wrinkles around his eyes or mouth, no age pulling him down, no demons in his eyes. He’s whole and beautiful and bright, everything Tony hasn’t been in decades, and he still watches Tony like Tony is the best and brightest thing he’s ever seen. 

“It’s real empty, Tones,” Rhodey rumbles. 

Tony pulls away, enough that he can roll onto his side, the metal arm cool against his hip. 

Rhodey watches him, endlessly patient. 

“You know you’ve got the younger better edition waiting for you at home,” he murmurs. 

“You’re supposed to be a genius,” Rhodey says, soft, and kisses him. 

~*~ 

The thing is--he’s loved Rhodey his whole life. When he was an idiot teenager and Rhodey was too decent to touch him, when they fell into bed together because as  _ good _ as Rhodey was, Tony was a persistent little shit. 

When he was grief drunk and angry, even during the long empty years when they didn’t speak, when he pushed Rhodey away and Rhodey wrapped himself in duty and the Air Force, a greedy mistress. 

He’s loved Rhodey through every year, every triumph and heartbreatk, through the end of the goddamn world. And staring at him now, young the way they  _ aren’t _ , anymore, seeing that love shining familiar and beautiful in his eyes--

Tony kisses him, lets Rhodey roll him on his back and straddle him, and when his hands wander, when his lips drift down his jaw and throat and over the scar that the arc reactor and Steve’s shield left--he doesn’t stop him. 

He doesn’t stop Rhodey when his hands catch on the hem of his sleep pants, and pull them down, doesn’t stop him when he takes Tony’s hard cock in his mouth, or when he rubs blunt fingers over his hole. 

He begs for more, and Rhodey smiles, slow and dirty and gives him everything he asks for and more. 

~*~ 

“It’s ok, you know.” Rhodey murmurs, when they’re quiet and still, and he’s resting on Tony’s chest the way he’s always loved, sprawled there like maybe his weight would keep Tony still and safe. “To want this. To want  _ me.”  _

Tony looks at him and Rhodey smiles, soft and easy. “There’s no version of me that doesn’t love you, Tony Stark. That doesn’t belong, heart and soul, to you.” 

~*~ 

They’re in the kitchen, and Rhodey is laughing, stealing blueberries and kisses, when Sam clears his throat. It’s been four days, and it’s not easy--there’s things he won’t tell Rhodey, not like this. 

Things like Morgan and Mama Rhodes, things like the way the Air Force turned on him, after the Decimation. Like how JARVIS died, or the ill-advised romance with Pepper. 

Things like the braces that he isn’t wearing, that still startle Tony with their absence. 

There are  _ gaps _ , and Rhodey is smart, smart enough to notice them, but he’s content to let Tony lead--to not push for more. 

It’s been  _ nice _ , once Tony let himself have what he wants, and even if Rhodey is a little cool toward the team and distant with Peter, he’s been  _ happy _ . 

Sam says, softly, “Strange is here, man.”

~*~ 

Tony listens while Strange explains the spell, his tone all clinical interest. Watches while he hands over a thin vial of murky purple liquid and Rhodey palms it. 

“It’ll reverse, when I drink this?” 

“Yes. You won’t remember this--you aren’t so much the you you were when you were nineteen, as you are who Rhodey was.” 

Rhodey blinks.”That doesn’t make any damn sense,” he says, nonplussed and then shrugs. “Nevermind.” He twists and finds Tony’s gaze. “C’mon, Tones.” 

“Colonel--” Sam starts and Rhodey shakes his head, a smile tight on his lips that Tony recognizes, because it’s the way Rhodey looks when he’s serious, when he doesn’t want to be fucked with. 

He shivers, shifts to stand with Rhodey. 

“I’ll take it. But I’m not sayin’ goodbye to Tony in front of all of you.” 

Rhodey catches his hand, and tugs him out of the room. 

~*~ 

They sit on the landing pad, Rhodey’s legs dangling over the edge. Rhodey has always loved the sky, loved the freedom of flight, and since building his first suit, since flying  _ with _ Rhodey, it’s one of the things they share that no one else can touch. Not even Sam with his wing pack shares this with them, and he likes that, revels in the closeness of it. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Tony says, suddenly and Rhodey smiles at him. The grey skies are a pale contrast to his dark skin, and he is, as always, achingly beautiful. 

“I know you don’t. You’ve always been real greedy, ‘specially when it came to keeping me,” Rhodey says, and Tony flushes, just a little. Rhodey finds his hand, squeezes lightly. “I’ve never minded, genius.” 

“You won’t remember me.” 

“He might, though. And you can tell him. Show him--FRIDAY can show him.” He smirks, dirty and teasing, “Bet he’d like it.” 

“But--” 

“I love you, Tony. But I’m just a boy you used to love. It’s time to let your husband come home.” 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tony whispers and Rhodey’s hand clenches on his, bruising tight. 

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried, sweetheart. I’m still here, thirty years later, and crazy in love with you. We got something we were too dumb to even dream about. You can’t lose that.” 

Tony curled into him, and the wind rippled over them, tugging at his hair while Rhodey kissed him, bitter salt and so sweet it hurt. 

“Go,” Rhodey whispers, against his lips. “I don’t want you to watch.” 

“You’ll find me--”

“I’ll always find you,” Rhodey promises, and Tony smiles, because that’s always been the truth, the fact that he’s based every other choice and decision on. 

“Miss me, just a little bit,” Rhodey calls, and Tony laughs as he goes inside. 

~*~ 

He’s curled up on the bed that smells like them, like sex and spice and motor oil, like coconut and Rhodey’s shampoo, when he hears the familiar click and hum of his braces. He doesn’t move and Rhodey doesn’t say anything, not until he slips into bed, and curls against Tony’s back, familiar wrinkled scarred hands coming up to lace with Tony’s own, and his voice is ragged and worn and  _ familiar.  _

“Miss me, peacock?”

Tony closes his eyes, and can see the boy he loved and the man he married and they’re the same, they’ve always been the one to hold him together and guard his heart. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and twists to kiss Rhodey, deep and wet, hungry and familiar and warm.

He’s smiling when he pulls back, and says, “I’ll show you later.” 


End file.
